A Torturous Predicament Called ‘Entertainment’
by Nieriel Raina
Summary: UFS: A delegation from Gondor to Harad get more than they bargained for in the way of entertainment. Written for the Middle-earth Express Prompt 84: Entertainment. 2ND PLACE 2007 MC Awards - Biggest Laughter Story.
1. A Visit to Harad

**Disclaimer: If this fic doesn't prove I am not Tolkien, I'm not sure what would.**

**Written for the Middle-earth Express Prompt Challenge #84: Entertainment**

**WARNING: This short story contains sexual innuendo and alludes to a male's reaction to seduction. Nothing graphic, but much implied. **

* * *

**_Dedicated to 'Randy'_**

* * *

**A Torturous Predicament Called 'Entertainment'**

_**By Nieriel Raina**_

**Chapter 1**

**_A Visit To Harad_**

"Welcome! Welcome to Harad!"

And welcome they felt as they were offered luxurious tents, were shown how to wet clothes to wash – water is a commodity in the desert – and were then escorted to a great feast held outside - lit only by a few torches and the light of the stars. The food was delicious and exotic, and once they had eaten their fill, the King of Harad rose to announce their delegation would now be treated to some entertainment; the best dancers in the kingdom would perform for the honored visitors from Gondor.

But the King of Gondor did not look pleased at this news, Legolas noted. Aragorn stiffened, his eyes tightened, and his mouth became firm in the manner it did when he was greatly displeased but not in a position to voice his disapproval. It did not take long for the elf to find out why. High shrieks and shouts rang out, so suddenly and in such a manner that Legolas found himself reaching for his knife, but Aragorn's hand stilled him before any of the Haradrim noticed.

In a blur of glittering gold and dark cloth, and amid the sound of beating drums and more calls, beautiful woman streamed in among the men…wearing the barest minimum of clothing. Legolas felt his jaw drop and would have lowered his eyes in embarrassment, but found himself drawn into beguiling eyes lined with kohl belonging to a dark haired beauty moving towards him. His face flushed. As she edged closer, moving her hips in such a manner Legolas felt heat in areas other than his face, he could not stop his eyes from traveling down her curvaceous body. His gaze skimmed from her veiled face (only her eyes showed) down a long neck, and over a generous bosom covered by scraps of material decorated with jangling gold discs suspended by fine chains. Against his volition, his eyes continued to wander over a firm belly, which moved – how did she DO that? – in ways that he had never fathomed, and took in hips clad in more golden chains and discs and a long flowing, gauze skirt, sliced open to show off long, bare legs and dainty ankles surrounded by yet more gold, but these chains held bells.

She continued to move closer to him, and he forced his gaze back to her eyes. She was laughing at him behind her veil; he could see it in those depthless jewels which dominated her veiled face. It was as if he was falling, or he was running a race, so fast did his heart pound, and was he gasping for air?

"Legolas?"

Closer and closer, until the enticing form danced right in front of him, her eyes for him alone. And all of a sudden, he needed to stand. This 'entertainment' was proving a bit much for him and was rousing him in a way he had never felt before. He started to move, planning to retire to his tent as a manner of escape, only to feel an iron grasp on his arm, and a whisper of "Do not stand!"

Legolas turned confused and pained eyes on his friend. "Aragorn, I need to… I need to leave!"

But the King of Gondor shook his head in a firm, yet minimized manner, one Legolas recognized as an attempt to be inconspicuous. "If you stand, you will be wed by sunrise."

The elf blinked, gulped and lowered his blushing face to his lap. "Aragorn…"

"I understand your 'predicament', my friend. And I apologize for not warning you in advance, but I had no way of knowing they would honor us in such a way. Rare is it that they allow any visitors to look upon their women. Only once before did I witness it."

"I would have preferred to have been honored in another fashion. They could have given me one of their fine horses."

"I think, my friend, you are not so put off by the entertainment provided as attracted to it." Aragorn grinned at him when he looked up horrified. "And they do not give their horses to any; in fact, anyone not of their race possessing one is killed on sight as a thief!"

Fabric trailed over his head, and Legolas made the mistake of looking up. He hissed as he realized the lady was now so close he only had to reach out and… He closed his eyes and swallowed heavily, trying very hard to control his rebellious body. He whispered just loud enough for Aragorn to hear, "I'd rather be killed as a thief, I think. This is torture!"

A snicker caused him to glance over at his friend. "Oh, Legolas, I am sorry. I forget sometimes you are an elf and are unaccustomed to the wiles of women."

"Our women are not without wiles! But neither do they flaunt such 'wiles'," and he gestured at the dancing woman, "for all to see!" He groaned as a backside swished in his face.

"It will be over soon. If you can, keep your eyes on their faces. They are really quite lovely. But beware! They are very gifted in the art of seduction!"

"I suppose it is a good thing I have had much practice escaping the wiles of mortal women, then."

"Do not underestimate them."

But Legolas had steeled himself. He now knew what to expect, and took a moment to bring himself back in control and opened eyes he did not remember closing to find the lady had lowered herself to her knees in front of him. She was practically sitting in his lap!

It was going to be a very long evening, and his only consolation was that Gimli was still in Rohan...

**:-:-:-:-:-:**

When Legolas finally found himself in his tent, he sat on his bedroll with a moan, lowering his head into his hands. The flap of the tent stirred, and he sensed movement, but he did not look up.

"My lord?" a soft voice in accented Westron asked.

"Tathar?"

"Yes, my lord." The amused voice switched to Sindarin.

"Not one word, do you hear me?"

"But Legolas, I was only going to comment on how surprisingly beautiful our host's ladies are! And how taken you seemed to be with one of them. Why she could not take her hands off you!"

"I hate you."

A snicker. "I know." A pause, and then, "The next time your father suggests you need to be wed, shall I suggest he make a trip to Harad?"

Legolas' answer was a well thrown pillow – there seemed to be no end of pillows in the tent!

"Very well, my lord," came the muffled reply. "I'll just see you have some time alone, shall I?"

There was a slight whooshing sound followed by a thump and an "Oof" as another pillow found its mark.

"Tathar?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"Get out."

**TBC**

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Tathar – Legolas' second and captain of his guard. 

A/N - I blame this little piece mostly on spending WAY too much time at the Maryland Renaissance Festival this season, and the ladies that belly dance around The Dragon Inn and Dragon's Lair on the Tiltyard Path. I bow to their boldness! I pull some aspects of Harad custom from different desert tribal traditions and Indian influence, but a lot is simply what I saw at the Ren Faire!

Comments are welcome.

NiRi


	2. Aragorn's Personal Matter

**Disclaimer: If this fic doesn't prove I am not Tolkien, I'm not sure what would. **

**Written for the Middle-earth Express Prompt #84: Entertainment **

**WARNING: This short story contains sexual innuendo and alludes to a male's reaction to seduction. Nothing graphic, but much implied. **

* * *

**Dedicated to 'Randy'**

**A Torturous Predicament Called 'Entertainment' **

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**Chapter 2**

**Aragorn's Personal Matter**

"Good morning!"

Yes, morning, despite the darkness that lingered in the pre-dawn. Legolas turned from his tent flap and glared at the man who was grinning at him knowingly in the gloom.

"Have a good night's sleep?"

"You are really pushing it, you know?"

Aragorn's grin became wider, showing off his white teeth. "I know."

Legolas decided the only way to get through the situation (and potential jokes at his expense) was to go on as if nothing had happened, for in truth, as far as he was concerned, nothing had. It was a story he would cling to for years if necessary. "What is the agenda for the day, my liege?" he asked formally, hoping to distract the man, and thus the others beginning to stir around the Gondorian's camp. He tried to ignore the satisfied grins on most of their faces.

"We have until dawn to break our fast and prepare, then we meet with the Haradrim king and his counsel in their large tent to discuss the trade agreement and its stipulations." The king yawned and stretched, walking over to a table set up with bowls of dates and nuts and a plate of some flat bread beside a crock of honey. Aragorn plopped a fat date into his mouth and drizzled honey over a piece of the bread.

Legolas, hoping the 'incident' was forgotten, also moved to fix himself some bread with honey, eating quickly, and then slipping back into his tent to wash as best he could with the linen cloth by carefully pouring water onto it and then wiping himself down. The law of Harad stated that every drop of water spilled on the ground resulted in a lash with the whip, and having no wish to experience the Haradrim culture so intimately (had he not experienced enough already?), he was careful to let not one drip hit the carpeted floor. Once washed, he took a few moments to slip unheeded into the desert to enjoy the lightening of the sky as the stars began to disappear, one by one.

It was with a lighter heart that Legolas joined the King of Gondor and his few councilors for the discussion of the trade agreement, which once ratified, would improve conditions for the Haradrim and bring some useful and exotic wares to the people of Gondor. The kings and their councilors lounged on the floor of the carpeted tent on many cushions, the trade agreements spread over a low table between the groups. Legolas took his place among the guards, standing to the side of the tent and watching the proceedings with veiled interest. His presence was to insure the Haradrim attempted nothing, either by way of violence or shrewd negotiation. Across the tent, a large bare-chested Haradrim guard did the same along with several other less imposing men in robes.

As it turned out, his presence was unnecessary – other than to provide the Haradrim with something to gawk at as elves had been considered mythical until the War – and the meeting went well, with the leadership of both countries coming to an agreement without too much hassle or debate. Both kings signed the documents, witnessed by councilors from both sides, and the parchments were rolled and tied, one for each kingdom.

"This has been a most pleasant and productive meeting," the king of Harad stated with a smile, sitting forward on his cushions. "I pray the Powers that be allow us to have many years of such trading between our people."

"I heartily agree," Aragorn concurred with a smile, also shifting on his cushions.

All during the conversation and debate over the trade of various supplies and materials, Legolas had noted subtle nuances in body language that seemed to pass between the kings. The elf assumed Aragorn had learned such mannerisms during his stay in Harad years past, for it was very different from the way his friend would handle the Gondorian court or even treat with Éomer; and indeed, Aragorn seemed to have mastered the art of communication among these strange yet interesting people.

So, it was with amused interest that he watched Aragorn shift to one side and rub calloused fingers over his beard. The King of Harad smirked and leaned back into the plethora of pillows overflowing the tent. (Why did these people need so many cushions?) "How else may I be of assistance, King Elessar?"

Aragorn also shifted back, leaning comfortably on his own large pile of silk covered cushions with his hands folded across his stomach. "I would speak to you in private, King Malik, of a personal matter."

Malik narrowed his eyes from his reclined position, searching Aragorn's face, for some sign of threat perhaps. Where before he had been relaxed and even jovial, he was now wary and ill at ease, and Legolas, seeing this transfer to the Haradrim guards, moved his hand slightly to make it easier to retrieve his long white knife at his waist.

But Aragorn grinned and spread his hands in a gesture of peace. "Though our people have come far in making peace, we still have little trust between us. I suggest we both keep a trusted guard with us for peace of mind."

Malik smiled slowly, curiosity winning over caution. He gestured to a large man standing to the side. "Isam will stay," he glanced at the others present. "Leave us."

Aragorn nodded to his own men. "Lord Legolas will remain with me. You are dismissed."

The Gondorim guards left reluctantly, Captain Arnien frowning severely. Legolas touched his arm as he passed. "No harm will befall the king, Captain. I give you my word." Arnien nodded crisply and ducked out of the tent with the others.

When all but the four of them had departed, a silence settled over the tent as the two kings regarded one another. Then Aragorn smiled wickedly. "Forgive my impudence, Malik, but I have a request I would rather my councilors not hear." Malik's eyes darted over to Legolas, and the elf stiffened at the unspoken question of his loyalty. "Legolas is a trusted friend, not just a guard or councilor."

"Ah," Malik nodded, "as is Isam. Have no fear, whatever request you bring before me will remain between us here."

Aragorn, Legolas noticed, sighed with relief and let all formality fall from him. The two kings had worked hard to build relations between the two countries, and while they did not always see eye to eye, there was a measure of respect and ease between them. "My request is simple, though personal. I wish to purchase certain items from you."

Malik tilted his head and reached up to stroke his beard. "What items would this be, Elessar? There are some things I simply will not part with." The king glanced again at Legolas.

Grinning, Aragorn chuckled. "Not your horses, Malik, though I know Legolas would love to have one of them for breeding purposes. Elves are very particular about their horses and only wish for the best."

Legolas inclined his head at Malik's questioning gaze. "Never have I seen such conformation and beauty. They appear delicate, but are spirited and strong. I suspect they have great endurance."

The King of Harad inclined his head. "They are great animals, though I was considering something else of value when I declared I would not part with certain things."

Legolas frowned, but Aragorn laughed. "He means his daughter and her interest in you last eve, Legolas."

The elf felt the blood drain from his face and he regarded the King of Harad with alarm. "King Malik, I am positive King Elessar would not be so bold as to attempt to procure a wife for me." He turned and glared at Aragorn, who just chuckled.

"Well," Malik said looking relieved, "then I must express my admiration for your own horses, Lord Legolas. More intelligent creatures I do not think I have ever seen, especially that grey stallion of yours."

Thankful the conversation had taken this turn, Legolas added, "Elven horses are descended from the same ancestors as the Mearas."

"Perhaps you would be interested in a breeding trade?"

Legolas blinked. "I was told you do not trade your horses outside your own people, on pain of death."

Malik laughed. "To own a pure Arad would be a crime, yes, but to improve the breed, we from time to time bring in other stock. We could arrange a trade of stallion services…"

Legolas allowed himself to smile. "We will discuss it, perhaps after King Elessar has completed his own request," he drew the conversation back to Aragorn, who had been watching them with amused exasperation.

"Ah… my apologies, King Elessar, when it comes to horses, I fear I forget much else."

"In that you are much like my friend here, but I will leave you to discuss those details once I have what I need."

"And what do you need, Elessar?" Malik asked with a sly smile.

To Legolas' surprise, his friend's face flushed. "Certain items of a feminine nature," Aragorn said, keeping his eyes level on Malik. "In short, I need clothing and bangles such as your women wear when they dance."

There was complete silence in the tent. Malik looked thoughtful, pondering Elessar's words, while Aragorn waited, his gaze never leaving the face of the King of Harad. Legolas' mind, however, raced over why the King of Gondor would need clothing - could you really call it clothing? – of such nature. His thoughts were interrupted by Malik.

"I will be glad to sell you such clothing, Elessar, and at a reasonable price, however, as I am sure you have noted, women have marvelously different shapes and build. Does it matter the size of the clothing?"

Aragorn flushed a deeper shade of red, but continued to look steadily at Malik. "It does, and I have measurements with me." He reached into his tunic and drew out a piece of parchment from a secret inner pocket.

Legolas frowned. Was that not the parchment Arwen had slipped into Aragorn's pocket before they left Minas Tirith? By the moon and stars! What could Estel…. Oh, he would not!

'Aragorn!" His outburst surprised even himself. Both kings glanced sharply at him and even the calm and disinterested eyes of Isam flickered to him. Aragorn raised a brow, and Legolas swallowed, shocked at his conclusions. "You would not," he voiced with disbelief, feeling his face heat.

The King of Gondor smirked. "I would. In fact, she suggested it."

The elf could not stop his mind from substituting in his mind the dancer from last night with the Evenstar. He groaned inwardly. "I do not need to know such! I shall never wipe such an image from my mind!"

Slate grey eyes narrowed. "I suggest you forget it and very quickly if your mind has gone to where I think it has gone."

Legolas gulped, trying very hard to do such, but the thought of the elven lady dressed in such attire, moving in such an enticing manner…. No wonder Aragorn was not so bothered the evening before and looked so refreshed this morning! He had been picturing his wife instead of the Haradrim women! Not that he could blame his friend.

"Legolas?"

He glanced back up at Aragorn, unaware of when he had looked away. The king looked positively livid. "I…." he paused, then a wicked thought occurred to him. "It is only you, she and I who know of this?" Aragorn nodded, obviously trying to figure out where the elf was taking the conversation. Legolas glanced at the Harad King, who was watching them with bemused silence, then grinned at Estel. Switching to Sindarin he said,"Gimli never hears about last night. You will order your men to say nothing of the 'incident' and I shall forget I ever was privy to this conversation."

His friend searched his eyes a moment, then nodded, answering in the common tongue, "Done."

The elf could not help a parting jibe. "Fortunate rogue."

There was laughter in Aragorn's eyes when he smiled. "Indeed."

"One last thing," Legolas ignored the look of warning in Elessar's eyes. "Just how shall the lady learn such an art?"

But the King of Gondor only lifted a brow and smirked, while the King of Harad's laughter filled the tent.

TBC

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A/N – I am of the opinion Harad is the ancient land that becomes Saudi Arabia. As such, I am assuming their horses are the ancestors of the Arabian, and have dubbed them the 'Arad'. 

Aragorn spent some time in Harad sometime after he met Gandalf between the years of 2957 – 2980. It was also during this time that he served under King Thengel of Rohan and Ecthelion II of Gondor.

Sian - unfortunately in this series, Legolas is already married, though he is not at this point in time. I am also not a fan of elf/mortal romances outside those Tolkien told us about. Sorry!

Comments are greatly appreciated. I mean, come on! I'm out on a limb with this one! Like it, hate it?

NiRi


	3. No Idea What They Were In For

**Disclaimer: If this fic doesn't prove I am not Tolkien, I'm not sure what would.**

**Written for the Middle-earth Express Prompt #84: Entertainment**

**WARNING: This short story contains sexual innuendo and alludes to a male's reaction to seduction. Nothing graphic, but much implied. **

* * *

**Dedicated to 'Randy'**

**A Torturous Predicament Called 'Entertainment'**

**by Nieriel Raina**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

_**No Idea What They Were In For**_

The group of travelers brought their mounts to a halt outside the grand gates of Minas Tirith, causing their magnificent mounts to snort and blow in excitement, for the elven bred horses were hardly winded by their journey from Eryn Lasgalen. The leader of the group sat proud on his stallion's back, his golden hair streaming behind him in the slight breeze which always seemed to blow from the south across the Pelennor bringing with it the smell of salt water. Behind him rode his standard bearer, the green banner snapping as a gust caught it and spread it out for all to see the embroidered oak leaves and staff.

Legolas smiled and urged Celedae forward to meet with the group. He was the official greeter, as the King of Gondor, along with his Steward, were still in meetings concerning the coming diplomatic talks between several realms. As he approached, the tall, golden-haired king in the lead grinned at him.

"Legolas…." Thranduil quickly dismounted, striding forward with long strides, ceasing to king and becoming simply his Adar.

He grinned back, throwing protocol to the wind as he dismounted and met his father, being immediately engulfed in a warm embrace. It had been several years since they had seen one another, and they stood in the hold for several minutes, Thranduil stroking his son's hair in a gesture of deep love.

Then they pulled back, and Legolas, smiling, performed his task. "Welcome to Gondor, my lord. King Elessar and Prince Faramir send their regards and regret they are unable to meet you themselves."

Thranduil shook his head, interrupting. "Forget formality, my son. I prefer this greeting above any other. I know Elessar welcomes us, and I am certain bids us to make ourselves at home." He winked.

Laughing, Legolas concurred. They remounted their horses, and he led the delegation through the gates towards the Citadel, Thranduil riding abreast of him. As they rode, the citizens of the city lined the streets in curiosity, some cheering and waving at the Elves as they passed. Most of their company ignored the clamor, but Thranduil smiled and nodded as they passed, even stooping to receive a nosegay of posies from a small girl who beamed at him. Legolas watched the Elvenking tuck the flowers into his horse's mane, and chuckled to himself.

'So much for Aragorn's worries about the intimidating King of Eryn Lasgalen,' he thought. His father had truly changed in many ways – or perhaps, not changed so much as returned to his true self – since Legolas' unfortunate accident several years prior. Thranduil now gave smiles freely and even laughed when a young woman approached shyly with more flowers, a look of longing on her face. Thranduil halted his horse and accepted the flowers, going so far as to lean down and whisper into the maiden's ear, "If only I were younger not already wed, my dear," eliciting chuckles from his companions. She blushed and beamed, stepping back into the crowd, but Legolas noted her eyes never left the glorious elf riding beside him. Gimli would find this very amusing when he told him.

"The delegation from Harad has arrived?"

The question pulled Legolas back from thoughts of his friend, who was currently in Gondor representing the interests of the dwarves of Aglarond and Erebor and had traveled with Éomer's representative. Gimli had elected to forego the official greeting with the Elvenking, however, stating that his father would probably like to see him alone first, and as usual, it seemed Gimli was correct. "So have those from Rohan, Erebor, Imladris, and Khand, and the representatives of Gondor's territories. Official proceedings begin this evening. You are late."

Thranduil grinned. "Not if the proceedings have not yet begun," he said, then sobered. "We had to wait for the river to recede. Non-seasonal rains caused the ford to flood. It took a week for the waters to go down enough for us to cross safely; otherwise, we would have arrived early enough to have visited you in Ithilien as we had planned."

Legolas grimaced at the thought. He had looked forward to spending that time with his father, and now, he was robbed of it.

"We will still have our time, my Leaf," Thranduil assured him. "It will just have to be after the talks, instead of before." Legolas nodded, feeling better; he had missed his father.

They rode in silence the rest of the way, arriving in the sixth level in good time. Stable boys were waiting to take the Elves horses, and they soon headed through the seventh gate. Servants led the Elvenking's escort to housing in the sixth level, while Legolas personally showed Thranduil to the room prepared for him, which happened to be the room across the hall from the suite Legolas shared with Gimli.

Thranduil spent several minutes hanging his formal clothing and putting away his personal gear. Legolas sat in a chair and watched the familiar movements. He could not count the number of times he had sat in his father's rooms watching him unpack or prepare for some formal event. The motions were comforting to the elf who felt too long deprived of such things.

A knock at the door proved to be a servant bearing a tray with a light lunch, and they ate together, telling each other those things that could not be conveyed through letters about their time apart and relaying messages from family members. Legolas was surprised to hear that after so many centuries alone, his sister had finally shown interest in a member of Thranduil's council. He laughed as Thranduil described how his brothers teased her mercilessly despite her threats. Legolas would send letters to his family when his father returned north, adding his own teasing to those of his brothers. He was pleased though that his sister's chosen was someone he respected greatly and one he knew would treat her as she deserved.

The sun began its slow descent in the sky, and Legolas excused himself and moved to his own rooms to prepare for the official feast. Gimli was already there preparing, and the dwarf's laughter boomed into his room from the open door separating their sleeping chambers when Legolas relayed the Elvenking's journey through the city streets. A comfortable silence descended on them as they finished their preparations. Legolas belted his dress tunic, and then glanced in to see if Gimli was ready. The dwarf was tying off the last braid in his beard.

They left together, and after determining Thranduil had already departed for the Great Hall of Feasts, they strode outside and towards the stone building, the windows of which shone in the gathering darkness from the lanterns and candelabras inside. When they entered, they were quickly caught up in the pre feast socialization, making the rounds, until they came to where Aragorn conversed with Thranduil.

The Elvenking smiled as they approached. "Gimli! Good to see you. How are Rohan and that hole in the mountains you call home?"

The dwarf chuckled; not at all put out by what many would assume was an insult, he grasped the proffered hand of the elf. "Rohan is still full of grass and horses, King Thranduil, and the caves are even more beautiful than when you visited."

Legolas smiled at their easy banter, but only halfheartedly, for across the room a man in flowing robes had entered flanked by a large, brawny man who, Legolas was pleased to see, was dressed in a loose shirt and breeches, instead of bare-chested as he last remembered seeing him. Isam's arms were folded across his chest as he stood glaring at anyone who so much as looked at the King of Harad.

Malik met Legolas' eyes and smiled, walking over to him and his companions, who fell silent as the man of Harad joined them. "Lord Legolas!" Malik greeted him. Touching folded hands to his bowed forehead, mouth and lifting them up and outwards to fall at his sides.

"King Malik, so good to see you again," Legolas returned the gesture he had learned in Harad as the typical greeting among the Haradrim.

Aragorn did the same, and the two men also exchanged pleasant greetings. Then Aragorn said something that Legolas could have strangled him for. "And how is your lovely daughter, King Malik? I am sure Lord Legolas would be interested in hearing of her." The Lord of Asca Nen could feel his face heat as he felt two very pointed and inquiring looks from his father and Gimli.

"What is this about a lady, Legolas," Thranduil was the first to ask.

Legolas grimaced before commenting to Malik, "You must allow me to introduce you to my father, King Thranduil of Eryn Lasgalen, and my dear friend, Gimli, son of Glóin, Lord of Aglarond in Rohan."

Malik greeted both the elven lord and dwarf with equal politeness, before turning a pointed look on Legolas. "Ah, Lord Legolas, you will be pleased to hear my daughter has accompanied me from Harad along with several of her ladies. I believe you will remember them from your visit to our lands."

Legolas paled. 'Oh, please,' he thought, 'please do not let them dance for the dignitaries.' Aloud, he said, "Indeed, I do, King Malik. They are all lovely ladies." He gulped as he continued as Aragorn would expect of him. "I do hope I will have the honor of seeing them again." Aragorn snorted, and Legolas glared at him.

But Malik only chuckled. "Oh, I think that could be arranged, Lord Legolas. In fact," the Haradric king glanced at Aragorn, "they will be joining us tonight after dinner."

"Why do they not join us for dinner?" Thranduil asked with a confused frown. "I would think a princess of your land would be seated at the high table."

It was Aragorn who explained. "In Harad, customs are much different. The women do not eat with the men, which is why Arwen and Éowyn are not joining us. They are hosting another dinner among the ladies of our guests."

'Oh, surely not!' Legolas thought as an unbidden thought crossed his mind. He cleared his throat. "Aragorn, er, the queen will not be joining them…um, later…."

"No, she will not!" the king snapped with a menacing look through narrowed eyes.

Legolas sighed in relief. "Good."

"Feasts are not feasts without the ladies." Thranduil looked back and forth between Legolas, Aragorn and King Malik, before turning confused eyes on Gimli, who shrugged.

"I suppose," the dwarf said, "we will be enlightened at the proper time. In any case, perchance I will learn the truth about some interesting rumors I have heard."

Legolas turned slowly to look down at the dwarf who was grinning up at him, and then Legolas glanced at Aragorn. "Tomorrow morning. Training fields. Hand to hand, or I speak now."

"I did not tell him!"

"Whoever did is dead."

A cheery, smiling dark haired elf chose the wrong moment to show his face. "Good evening, my lords!" Tathar greeted. He was later heard grumbling about dwarves who talk too much as he donned an apron and joined the servants washing dishes and platters.

The cooks had outdone themselves once again, Legolas thought, sitting back in his chair and folding his hands over his full belly. A server stepped forward to refill his goblet of wine, and the elf sighed, content.

Content until Aragorn stood with an impish smile, announcing that courtesy of the King of Harad, they would be graced with some Haradric entertainment shortly, and they might wish to turn their chairs to the center of the room.. There was appreciative clapping by many, but Legolas shook his head. These men had no idea what they were in for. He turned his chair along with the others, but glanced back over his shoulder, across the table at the King of Gondor who took his seat once more as servants began to extinguish some of the lights.

"What a coincidence that King Malik agreed to bring his ladies with him. I am sure Arwen has appreciated the chance to get to know them and learn from them." He smirked thinking he would be graced with a scowl for his impudence.

Instead, Aragorn smiled slowly, a wicked light entering his eyes. "She has learned much in a very short time," he said, shifting in his chair.

Legolas sat down and decided he would learn to keep his mouth shut right about the time the drums began, followed by the shrieks and whoops of the ladies as they entered. His heart started to beat faster, but movement next to him caused him to look at his father. And suddenly, he thought he just might enjoy the entertainment this evening after all.

With admiring eyes, Legolas was again swept up into the unique dance of the Haradric ladies, but this time, it was different. Instead of feeling lost and overwhelmed, he was amused, for this time, _HE_ was not the main focus of one of the enchanting women. Oh, he still found the dance evocative and secretly envied Aragorn for having a wife willing to learn such arts, but for the most part, he watched his father.

Thranduil's face had remained unreadable when the ladies first entered, and Legolas wondered if perhaps this was nothing new for his father. But when Malik's daughter fixed her eyes on the Elvenking, Thranduil squirmed in his seat, and to Legolas' delight, the king's face flushed. But like Legolas' first experience with the dance, Thranduil seemed unable to take his eyes away from the swaying, enticing, sparsely-clad bodies, bells tinkling as they moved. And so she came closer, swaying and calling to them with silent beckoning, her hands moving gracefully in flowing serpentine movements, while her hips undulated provocatively.

"How does she do that?" he heard his father whisper in an agonized groan. Legolas smirked and cast a quick glance at Gimli, seated on his other side.

The dwarf's mouth was wide open, along with his eyes, which were blinking rapidly. Gimli ran a hand over his red face and looked away, muttering something Legolas thought sounded like, "Much too hot in here." The elf did not think he would be on the receiving end of any teasing after tonight.

Legolas turned his eyes back to his father too late to stop what happened next. The Elvenking stood to his feet as the lady drew near. She smiled, and wrapped her arms around his neck, while Thranduil spluttered and attempted to extricate himself.

"M-my l-l-lady? Pl-please, I m-m-must…."

The drums stopped, and a stillness descended on the room just as Thranduil managed to remove himself from the writhing body of the woman. Malik stood to his feet, his expression of one highly affronted.

Legolas took that moment to grab the hem of his father's tunic and yank him back down in his seat. "Sit down and stay down," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Or you will find yourself explaining much to Naneth when you are reunited!"

Thranduil's mouth opened and closed several times in shock, and then his father did something Legolas had no recollection of ever seeing him do before. The Elvenking removed his circlet and lowered his head, allowing his long golden tresses to cover his flushed face.

Malik's daughter moved forward with a smile, and made as if to sit on the king's lap, but Legolas waved her away harshly. Her head snapped around and enraged black eyes met the piercing gaze of the King of Harad. She spoke then, her voice loud and acerbic.

Never had Legolas feared the Haradrim, not even during the War when they fought, but he found much to fear in Malik's furious face and that of Isam standing behind him, arms akimbo. Malik growled something in Haradric that Legolas could not understand and took a menacing step forward.

But it seemed the King of Gondor understood the words spoken. In that moment he stood to his feet, and to those present it was as if he grew in stature, becoming an imposing lord - great and powerful. As he turned a dark look on the other king, he said in a voice low and calm, which only made the words more potent, "King Malik, I will remind you that you are in Gondor, and that our ways are not your own. The man you accuse is already wed, and it is not in the nature of the elves to take more than one wife."

Thranduil's head shot up at that statement, and he cast a questioning glance at his son. Legolas nodded, but refused to say anything until he could remove his humiliated father from the room. He feared it would be a long night…a long, deafening night.

Thankfully, Malik's countenance changed at Aragorn's words. "Ah," he said, as if he had come to some profound conclusion. Then to Legolas surprise, the King of Harad left his seat and came over to stand in front of Thranduil, who by now was more confused than embarrassed. (Legolas was very grateful for this, for the Elvenking tended to get quite irate when he felt he had been made to look a fool.)

Malik then bowed low to Thranduil, palms together and pointed straight down. As he rose, his hands arched forward until they came to his forehead, then his mouth, and then separated outwards, arms extended, in the official greeting of Harad. "My sincere apologies, King Thranduil, my daughter was told your wife had passed away, and assumed you might wish to take another. In our land, when a man stands during the dance, it means he wishes to wed her by taking her to his tent and lying with her. I will explain to my daughter that she has misunderstood your gesture."

Thranduil nodded, looking rather at a loss of what to say in such a situation. It seemed to be a night of firsts for Legolas when it came to his adar. Thranduil was _NEVER _at a loss of words!

After speaking softly to his daughter, whose expression also changed during the discourse, Malik bowed once more to the Elvenking. "Amirah also offers her apologies, King Thranduil. She begs you forgive her, for in our land it is a great crime to approach the husband of another woman. If you wish it, you may request her death." All this was spoken very matter-of-factly by Malik, with little show of emotion.

Amirah, however, dropped to her face on the floor, inching forward until she cowered at Thranduil's feet. Legolas watched wide-eyed as she began to cry, sobbing pleas in Haradric.

"Oh, by Mahal, Thranduil, tell the girl you forgive her and let us call it a night," Gimli broke the tension by saying.

To everyone's surprise, the Elvenking began to laugh. He laughed until he grasped his sides, and as he did, the other men watching all this unfold began to chuckle and laugh along with him. Finally, with tears running down his cheeks, Thranduil reached down and pulled the girl up to her knees. "I could not order the death of such a charming creature. Forgive my ignorance of your customs, my lady." He stood, assisting her to her feet as he did so, then he repeated Malik's gesture of apology, bowing low.

Legolas just shook his head, casting a glance behind him at Aragorn and Faramir. (Why had he forgotten to watch Faramir's response to the dancing?)

"Remind me the next time you hold talks between the realms to stay home and just send Tathar in my stead," he told them.

"And miss all this?" Faramir asked with a laugh, gesturing to the men talking and laughing around the room.

From beside him, to his horror, he heard Thranduil say, "Oh, no, my son is quite unwed!"

Legolas glared at them. "Yes!"

And beside him, Gimli grunted his agreement.

* * *

Thank you for reading! Please don't forget to comment! 

NiRi


	4. As the Wind Dances

**Disclaimer: If this fic doesn't prove I am not Tolkien, I'm not sure what will.**

**Written for the Middle-earth Express Prompt #84: Entertainment**

**WARNING: seduction and sexual innuendo, though nothing graphic.

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**Dedicated to 'Randy'**

**A Torturous Predicament Called 'Entertainment'**

**_By Nieriel Raina

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**_Epilogue: Like the Wind Dances_**

I smile bemusedly at her as she leads me through the trees. The mighty trunks of this forest have stood for ages. I would stop and marvel at them, if only my mind were not consumed with the motives of my beloved, as she guides me deeper and deeper into the wood.

I shift the pack on my back, unable to contain my curiosity any longer. "Where are you taking me, love?"

She pauses and turns around to look at me, her beautiful eyes searching mine a moment, and then she smiles. "Far from home…" She continues onward, and I cannot help but follow her like a smitten pup, for that is what I am…smitten.

Let her keep her secrets, for she is deliciously devious, and I have never been disappointed with one of her schemes. To be sure, I usually end up having my senses delightfully fulfilled. I smile at the thought, ignore the weight on my back (I will not allow her to carry a pack), and my mind wanders paths of previous excursions. My body responds with tightening trousers, and I shift to thinking of dinner instead. I have no idea how much longer we will walk, and do not wish to do so in such discomfort.

The stars are coming out as we arrive at a small gap in the trees. Several torches lean against a tree with a pile of gear in canvas sacks near it. Apparently, she has been here already with other supplies. In a shallow pit dug in the earth and ringed with stones, kindling is arranged for a fire with a stack nearby to build and replenish it. I raise a brow at her, but she just smiles and removes her quiver and our bows, which she has carried.

Walking over to the torches, she presses them into the ground one by one in a ring around the clearing. I begin unpacking the gear I have brought, setting out the food near the fire pit. There is a stream nearby. I can hear it singing as it makes its way merrily to the sea. I push that thought from my mind and set the pack still bearing our clothing and other gear on a smooth place where we can lie down later. I smile to myself. It is a warm summer night, so we will need little in the way of protection from the elements, just a blanket or two laid over the grass for comfort. Or perhaps she will take me up in a tree this time? She shakes her head at me as if divining my thoughts, and moves to lay the blankets out.

Unstrapping my hunting knife from my belt, I set it beside the fire with the cooking supplies. Then I remove my outer tunic and lay it aside near our bedding along with my boots. This leaves me dressed in simply my leggings and soft undershirt. I notice the sly looks I am getting from long-lashed eyes the color of the sea on an overcast day, and pretend to ignore them as I set about lighting the fire and cooking dinner. We have not been married for long, but we have done this several times and have a system of who does what. At least, the set up parts….

I let those thoughts distract me from the fact that I am cooking in the wilds. Too easily I can imagine the person setting up our camp is another, and it will put me in a melancholy mood if I allow it. But even trying to stay focused, the smell of the wood smoke, the crack of the fire, the feel of the night air, and the hoot of an owl all take me back. I release a shuddering sigh, unable to hold back the sorrow that still tears at my soul.

Two arms wrap around me from behind. "I should not have brought you to the woods this time," she says, and I hear the concern in her voice. She worries about me, I know. She fears I will never recover completely from the losses I have suffered, and sometimes, I fear it, too. But not tonight, I will not let my grief destroy what she has worked so hard to create.

"I will be fine," I tell her, turning my head and shifting my body to look in her eyes with a forced smile. But she knows me too well for that.

"Do not lie to me," she says quietly in that way of hers that causes my breath to catch in my throat. By Elbereth, I love her! Though it took me long enough to tell her so.

Leaning in, I press a soft kiss on her lips. "I will be fine in a few minutes, when I have had time to adjust." I kiss her again, continuing to speak against her lips. "After dinner…when you distract me…" And then her hands are in my hair and the kiss deepens. She caresses my neck, my ears... Ai Elbereth Gilthoniel! Dinner will not get cooked this way!

Regretfully, I push her away with a chuckle. "If you start that now, we will never eat!" She smiles back ruefully.

"Cook fast," she replies and stands to finish setting up our small camp.

Suitably distracted, and with much to look forward to, I work to get the coal bed hot enough to sear the strips of venison flank in a pan. Soon, the meat is sizzling, and I add a bit of water, some vegetables and dried herbs to make it into a stew. Not many wood-elves cook in such a manner, but I learned from a Hobbit how to cook on the trail and cook well! Many things I learned from Hobbits. I miss the small folk with their big hearts and bigger stomachs. But those thoughts will bring me downcast again, so I stand and walk through the small meadow, picking some wild onions and a few more fresh herbs to add to dinner.

My beloved during this time has been working on something I cannot see, for her back is turned towards me. She can feel my gaze, for she shifts further from my watchful eyes. I drop my eyes back to the ground. No need to distress her, and surprises are not a bad thing, unless they are spiders, wargs or Orcs. Oh, my, how I do not miss those days, though the remembrance still brings a feeling of nostalgia. I spent the majority of my life in a wood full of them, after all. But those days are behind me, and there is little danger here, except the occasional enraged she-bear protecting her cubs or the rare rockslide or other natural danger. Evil does not taint these lands, not any more.

Our dinner is a quiet affair. We eat and gaze at the stars, few words spoken between us. My beloved seems to take a great interest in the stars this evening, almost as if she is keeping track of the time. Surely, it has something to do with her plans, but it is just the two of us, alone in the wilderness, leagues from any known dwellings. Or so I hope, considering what I anticipate is planned.

When she excuses herself to slip away into the woods, I cannot help but notice the small sack tucked into her belt. It is not large enough to contain much of anything. It reminds me of the pouch Gimli used to carry his gold…. Closing my eyes, I fall to my back and fight the pain that racks my heart. He has been gone several years now, but the pain has not faded, no more than the pain of when…

I will not think of this! I cannot think of this. Not tonight. Not here. But oh, the ache of loss that I endure! It is as if part of my soul has died and left this world without me.

Forcing myself back to the present, I am suddenly aware of a strange sound. Drums? But we are alone…. The faint pounding is familiar though, and yet…not.

I sit up and glance around. In her absence, the torches have been lit. So, we are not alone. Disappointment sets down on my stomach like a lead block. But….

And then I see her, and my breath is taken away. I have always thought her beautiful, but this stunning creature is not my wife, surely? Her large, kohl lined eyes stare at me full of such seduction, I feel lightheaded. This is something out of a dream, a desire I have spoken of to no one. How did she know?

She steps forward lightly, the bells on her ankles chiming in harmony with the bangles hanging from her hips and breasts. And I can only stare, full of amazement, longing and lust. Slowly, she approaches, her hips moving in time to the faint drumming. I cannot help but wonder who is playing them, and then she swoops in an unexpected move. I feel my jaw drop. This is so like the dance I saw many, many years past, but also unlike. This dance has been refined by elven grace, and I sit dumbfounded watching her twirl slowly. How does she do that? My whole body feels afire!

My heart pounds in my chest, and I shift into as comfortable a position as I can currently manage. My body responds to her moves as my soul recognizes its mate. I gasp, suddenly remembering to breathe as she floats closer, trailing a sheer scarf over my head. Then she is before me, hips swaying at eyelevel. I start to reach out, but I hesitate. I'm not supposed to touch…or am I? This dazzling, seductive woman is my wife!

She glances over her bare shoulder at me, and I groan. This is torture! And she knows it, too! That gleam in her eyes gives her away. She is facing away from me, and then…. Ai! Valar help me! She leans backwards, her back arching gracefully so that her hair sweeps across my lap and questing fingers caress my ears. A hiss escapes me and she laughs. Laughs! She thinks this is funny!

"Beloved, please…." Does that pathetic voice belong to me? She has reduced me to begging! But she has mercy on my plea. A coy glance under a twisting arm, an elegant turn, and then she is straddling my lap! "Uhhhmmm…."

Her fingers trail down my chest, tugging up the hem of my shirt, and then untying lacings that are far too tight. I reach out and grip her hips, pulling her against me, and I smile into her laughing eyes….

:-:-:-:-:-:

Staring at the stars above, I grin at them. The wind whispers across my bare skin, and I pull my love tighter against me. She is snuggled against me, half draped over my chest and leg. "I do not want to go home."

She giggles and trails a hand down my chest. "We do not have to return until the day after tomorrow."

"Can we not stay here forever?" I know this is not possible, but for this night, she has managed to draw me from my pain. I frown, suddenly curious. "How did you know?" I bite my lip. I am not sure I wish to know the answer.

"A star told me…"

I swallow hard. "Arwen…"

But she shakes her head. "No, Elessar. He provided the costume; Arwen taught me the dance. She was very good at it, so graceful. She moved like the wind dances."

"So do you."

She sits up slightly with a shocked expression on her face. "You truly think so?"

I shake my head at her, somewhat amused at her insecurity. "After…well, how can you have any doubts after that?"

She smiles and reaches over to kiss me, and I pull her completely on top of my body, locking my legs around hers and holding her body tight to mine with my arms. She laughs and begins to struggle. "Let me up!"

I grin at her, nipping at her shoulder when she sidles too close. "Not until you tell me who played the drums." She stills. "Mŷlaearnis?"

She blushes becomingly, and I grin. "Does all of Aman know what we have been doing?" The thought actually makes my face heat, but it is also quite humorous. My fingers move on her sides and she squirms. "Who?"

"Adar!" she squeals, trying to escape my ticklish touches.

"Adar!" I hiss. "MY ADAR?" I cease my movements in shock. She nods and looks up at me, biting her lip. I suddenly feel horrified. My father has been… No, I do not want to know what he has seen or heard. I will never hear the end of this.

"H-he promised to leave after the dance." Her eyes are still full of amusement. Why is it that my wife is not the least embarrassed over this?

I shake my head. "But it is my adar! You don't know him as well as I do!"

She folds her arms across my chest and rests her weight on her elbows. "But I have assurance that he will do as he says." I raise an eyebrow, wondering just what my beloved knows that I do not. "Aragorn told me about more than just your…desires."

And how did Aragorn know of my desires? We never spoke of this. How well my friend knew me. "What else did he tell you?" And just what does my wife know about me that I would rather she not?

She smiles wickedly. "Apparently, your adar declared his desire to marry a woman of Harad, which led to some embarrassing moments…."

The laughter rumbles in my chest. "Aye, I was there. Never have I seen my father so embarrassed!"

"Well, it would not do for your Naneth to learn of this, would it?"

Now I laugh aloud, and quickly flip my beloved onto her back. "No," my head lowers, "it would not."

:-:-:-:-:-:-:

He climbed up easily up into the tree, and entered the talan. He left the small drums on a table and proceeded into a simple, but comfortable room. The lady in his bed smiled at him. "I am proud of you, my love."

He grinned back, leaning against the door frame with crossed arms. "Now, why would I wish to spy on our son, when I have you waiting here for me?" He winked.

Her smile widened, but her eyes were troubled. "I worry for him. I hardly know him, yet I worry."

He stepped away from the door, kicking off his boots and pulling the tunic over his head as he made his way towards her. "You are his mother. Of course, you worry. But he will be fine. He has his wife to comfort him."

Her eyes shine at the mention of their daughter by marriage. "Yes, she is good for him."

Thranduil removed the remainder of his clothing and slipped into the bed beside her. "As you are good for me…" he whispered. She came willingly into his arms. He had missed his wife for so long, and now she was returned to him. And he meant to enjoy every minute.

But Laerwen pulled back with a suspect smile. "I wonder about this dance. Perhaps, I should learn it?"

With a deep moan, Thranduil claimed her mouth, and their souls entwined.

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Mŷlaearnis – 'Seagull bride'. An espesse Legolas gave his wife. Her real name? Now, that would be telling!

Laerwen– 'summer'. Thranduil's wife who was killed when Legolas was 35.

The dance is a version of the Haradric dance which Arwen refined with elvish moves to make it further seductive. (I cannot imagine the elves, who live for so long, would not be the more sensual creatures.)

This chapter takes place in Aman (Valinor) where Legolas' mother has been released from the Halls of Mandos. Elves do not truly die, but can be reembodied.

Thank you for reading! Please comment!

NiRi


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